


Let's Fake It (One More Time)

by Winterstar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Civil War (Marvel), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe this is all he has left of Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Fake It (One More Time)

Sex

The grunt and thrust push him against the wall. Something clatters in the background, a shattering of glass. The odor of sex and sweat mingle together. The feel of the wall against his back is hard. The glass windows around them invite voyeurs into their little hell. 

“Come on, Shellhead, you’d think you didn’t like it or something.”

“Fuck you, Winghead,” Tony says and claws onto Steve’s bare arms. He sees the tiny droplets of blood streak down the good Captain’s arms. He just wants to make more of them; he’s not sorry at all. Ever.

“I think that’s what I’m doing to you,” Steve says and rams his cock harder into Tony’s ass.

It burns because there wasn’t any prep time, but Tony doesn’t give a fuck. He wants it all, and he’ll beg for it on his knees if it means he feels something. Something other than the wide open expanse in his chest.

“Might not be good enough, might not hurt enough for me to feel you.”

“You want to feel something, Stark,” Steve says and picks Tony up and throws him against the workbench letting delicate equipment, papers, tablets crash to the floor. “I’m gonna make you feel something.” 

His cock is so hot and heavy, so thick in Tony’s ass he blacks out for a second, and then finds his way back all the while making whimpering noises. He curses as he comes back. “Fuck you.”

“You keep saying that,” Steve says and thrusts his whole cock in, letting it settle against Tony. He’s balls deep and panting as he leans over Tony on the workbench. His eyes search Tony’s, then flitter about his torn shirt, the bruising that must be appearing across his neck. “I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t even.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

Steve looks up at the glass walls, the glass door. Everyone could see, anyone could see. “Should leave, right now. But fuc-.” The syllables of the words are drawn out as he slides back and then slams back into Tony. Every time little black dots burst about in Tony’s vision. He begins to increase his pace. “But I can’t, I can’t.”

“God, Steve, fuck,” Tony says and throws his arms out. One hand hits the edge of the bench and he clutches onto it as Steve pummels his ass. Sweat runs down Steve’s temples, down his face, his neck, and across his chest.

“I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Tony repeats, because damn to hell and back this is what they say, it’s the script, how they agreed to it. Tony shouldn’t want to suck his dick and get fucked by him. Tony and Steve are not friends. “Harder, you fuck, harder.” He wants it to be hard, he wants to feel it for days, he wants to bleed, because he lost Steve and now he’s stuck with fake memories of what could have been and never was.

“Fuck,” Steve says and rolls his hips again. There’s something wrong about his eyes, there’s too much green, there’s too much red in them as if he’s been ill or crying. Maybe both – or neither. Tony will never know. Steve groans as he gets close to coming.

“Don’t you fucking come, yet. You get me off, you fucker,” Tony says and shoves against the hot dick in his ass.

Steve’s hand comes down and wraps around his cock, squeezed between them. His hands are massive, and scarred with too many calluses. Captain America shouldn’t have calluses. But Tony doesn’t let it change him, doesn’t allow it to squeak past the walls he erected.

“More, you fucker, more.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Steve says and his face is flush, his eyes brilliant. He works Tony with one hand and then takes the other and shoves a finger alongside of his swollen cock. 

Tony only screeches out something incoherent as his cock jumps and he impales himself on the finger and dick at the same time. 

“You want it more than anyone. Should bring a friend next time we could double you up,” Steve says and a second finger stretches Tony until he’s weeping for more. “God damn it, you always want more, so greedy. Aren’t you.” 

After that Tony’s fucks his fingers and dick with a wild needy abandoned. He feels like a destitute man on the streets looking for nourishment and only finding the scraps. He needs more, wants more, even though the feast has been given to him. It’s the wrong fucking feast. It doesn’t satisfy or fulfill him. But he fucks and stretches until he howls as he dies a little inside. 

He falls downward, like a drunk man stumbling down steps as he comes back to himself. The fingers and dick are dragged out of him and he hears the snap of a used condom being tied off. He lies on the workbench, his spent penis sticky against his underbelly. 

There’s a shuffling to the side and he hears the drawer open. “You want I come back next week?”

Tony looks over and sees the man he pretends is Steve popping out the contact lenses. He only nods to the man.

“I could bring a friend?”

“No, no friends,” Tony says and somehow finds a way to get off of the bench and onto the floor without collapsing entirely. It’s bad enough he has to worry about this getting out. He finds his pants and tugs them on as he sees the mess of broken equipment and glass all over the floor.

“Okay, whatever, it’s your dime,” the man says. “Thanks for the tip.” He waves the envelope with the bundle of cash in the air. He already has his clothes on. “You sent the payment to the service, right?”

Tony nods. “Yeah, yeah.” He rubs a hand down his face as his ass aches. “Next time, can you not get out of character so fast?” He swallows down his shame. 

“Oh, yeah sure. Sorry,” the man replies. “I just got a two o’clock I gotta get to and all.” 

Tony doesn’t say anything. He thinks his vision numbs and his body floats on waves of disconnectedness. The man – the male prostitute – comes over to him and squeezes his ass. It hurts more than anything. 

“See you next Tuesday?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says and staggers away from him. He gets to the cabinet and pulls out the whiskey. “The hell with it, bring a friend next time. We can double it up.”

The man stands there – Tony never learned his name. It would take away the illusion. He furrows his brows at Tony and almost, almost looks like Steve, except for the hazel eyes. “You sure?”

Tony pops the bottle open and swigs it. After he swallows he says, “Yeah, make sure he can keep up. I’ll suck you both off and then you can both fuck me. But he has to look-.”

The man bows his head and nods. “Sure, I know.”

“Yeah,” Tony replies and that little motion of lowering his eyes, looking away from Tony stabs into his heart, digs away at whatever pride he has left. “Go, you got that two o’clock.”

The man leaves without another word. Tony sinks down to the shattered glass littered floor, and tries not to remember when he and Steve were together – or almost together. They could have been, but never were. They broke apart and split the world in half when they did. 

He drinks and smothers his memories away, and then makes a resolution to forget everything that’s happened in the past year. Forget what he’s done, what happened, how it happened. Forget it all. 

He drinks a last toast to his memories, and says good-bye forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Not all tags were used to not spoil the story.
> 
> Want updates on my stories - get the inside scoop if I am going to give you a happy ending or an angst filled one for my longer stories? Follow me on [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com)


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